


Lower City Mongrel

by Liaelle



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, F/M, Gentle Mother Cult, Kidnapping, Multi, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:48:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1329052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liaelle/pseuds/Liaelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lower City is Beka’s, but she is also the Lower City’s. How much of herself will she give for the Lower City? Scanran slavers are in Tortall, kidnapping mots to bring back to Scanra as trained doxies. </p><p>Beka will be forced to confront her greatest fears as the cult of the Gentle Mother rises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue-Monday, July 25, 246

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This occurs almost directly after Terrier and ignores Bloodhound and Mastiff. The story is going to have a slow build. Hopefully, I'll be able to post every two days if I can. I'm also looking for a Beta, if any one is willing. I'm a first time author and any concrit would be greatly appreciated! 
> 
> Please leave some comments! 
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters and the world I’m currently playing in belong to Tamora Pierce.

**Prologue**

 

**Monday, July 25, 246**

 

After Watch

 

I woke up this morning to Pounce leaping onto my chest.

_Get up,_ he meowed, pawing at my sheets. _You’ve been asleep long enough._ I shoved the curst animal off of me and rolled to hide beneath the sheets.

 

“Let me sleep some more,” I groaned. “Just a bit longer.”

 

In truth though, Pounce is right. I should be getting up, but I don’t want to go to breakfast or leave my comfortable bed. There was another tavern brawl last night in the Cesspool. The shipyard coves from Port Cayne decided to start a brawl on the last day before they sail back for more trade. I was curst lucky not to break anything, although it sure feels like the rushers broke me all over.

 

 _I,_ Pounce declared, _want food._

 

I sighed and sat up, wincing at the aches I could feel all over. Changing was an awkward thing, difficult as I could not reach my arms above or behind me. Braiding my hair was an impossible task and I went in my uniform to breakfast. Mayhap one Kora or Aniki could braid it for me.

 

 Everyone was already seated and eating by the time I arrived.

 

Rosto whistled. “I hope the other coves look worse.”

 

“I’m in no mood for you today, you looby,” I growled, sitting cross-legged on the floor.  “Kora, could you do my hair? I can’t do it myself today.” Pounce settled himself in my lap as I fed him bits of sausage.

 

“Here, I can do it,” Rosto offered, sliding his hands into my hair and deftly weaving in my customary spiked strap before I could even say yes. He snapped the tie on and I checked the braid. It was very well done.

 

“A tip for a job well done, perhaps?” the looby asked, tapping his cheek with one long finger.

 

“The dye must really be getting to your brain if you think I’ll be one of your mots” I replied.

 

“Ouch,” Rosto feigned a wound. “The Terrier’s feisty today.”

 

The entire room filled with laughter at that. I huffed and fled with a  few pasties, hoping to avoid more of these Terrier jokes.

 

I’d much druther folk spend time listening to me in the streets than spend time coming up with creative nicknames for me.

 

Training this morning was painful, as every single one of the other puppies seemed to try to pick out my lumps to hit. Ahuda, thank the Goddess, is still the same as always and doesn’t treat me any different after the mess with the Shadow Snake and Crookshank.

 

“Muster up, you lazy scuts,” she roared. “I’ve got news from the gates to share.” All of us dogs perked our ears at that. News from the gate dogs could only mean trouble is coming to the Lower City.

           

“Gate dogs had six Scanran rushers entering the city on _holiday_ ,” she had to pause here, as howls of laughter filled the yard. “Now I don’t know what mess they’re planning on causing in our city, but I want all dogs, puppies, and terriers,” I could have sunk into the ground. “to keep their ears and noses to the ground.”

 

I need to remember to ask Rosto the next time I see the cove to ask about the Scanran rushers. Being the Rogue and from Scanra, he might have something useful for me.

 

The other dogs began to leave for their routes as Evening Watch started.  Goodwin and Tunstall beckoned from the other side of the yard and we headed out to begin the evening’s wandering.

 

It’s nice to fall into the normal evening routine, watching my Dogs amble along, nice as you please, stopping foists and sending me to fetch the runners. Normally, I like the chases, but today running was difficult. One filcher escaped me today, ducking into a building and out some back door afore I lost him.

 

The best part of the watch, I think, was how plain and normal it was. Folks are starting to stop talking about the Shadow Snake. They point less now in the streets, which suits me just fine. It isn’t becoming of a Dog to hide behind a partner after all, even if I’m still just a puppy. I just want to be a normal Dog in the Lower City, mayhap one day a senior Dog like Goodwin and Tunstall.

 

The watch was over without much fuss, although we dogs did notice one cove with a distinctive curved Scanran blade lounging by a fountain. I wished he was up to something so I could hobble him for Ahuda, but he was only watching the hustle of the street. The rusher caught me watching and winked at me. Goddess save me, I do not need another rusher in my life.

 

Rosto left some more red gillyflowers outside my door tonight. I really shouldn’t be accepting them, but the flowers are very pretty. I put the vase next to my bed and tried to go to sleep. I can’t help but wish it were Rosto next to me sometimes, instead of a vase of gillyflowers. A mot’s got a right to think these thoughts every once in a while, after all.

 

I know better though. I remember coming home from work when I was eight and seeing that sarden rusher beating my ma. I won’t be like that, letting love turn my into a looby and letting myself get beat by a rusher. I won’t.


	2. Tuesday, July 26, 246

Chapter One

Tuesday, July 26, 246

Days like today, when our breakfast group don’t meet, on account of it being Court Day, I miss Mistress Noll’s pasties. I don’t regret hobbling her. She and her gang deserved Execution Hill. I just miss her pasties. 

The stands where Mistress Noll used to sell her pasties burned down after martial law ended and the Snake gang execution was a moon and a half ago. People are starting to move on, though child-takers should still flee from the city. Folk are still riled up. The Lower City doesn’t forget. 

We haven’t hobbled any Rats in the last week, so my Dogs and I have the day off. Being that I have no duty today, it is one of the few days I can dress like a normal mot. Any rusher would be fool to mess with me today though. I go nowhere without my knives and armguards. 

I walked with Pounce to the one of the open squares, stopping to buy some cracked corn for the silly pigeons. As soon as I sat down by fountain, watching the washerwomen at work, I was surrounded by a flood of feathers and coos. Slapper hopped over to me on his good foot and pecked angrily. 

“Alright, you cracked bird,” I hissed. “Here’s your corn you greedy things.” I scattered the corn and the birds flapped after the corn. 

The birds carried naught for me to bring to my dogs today. One mot dead from childbirth, wept for her child, who would be turned onto the streets. Another bird carried a child who was crushed under a wagon and couldn’t figure out how to get home. 

As I sat there, comforting the souls and urging them onwards toward the Black God’s peace, I noticed a few children, one gixie and two little boys, huddled in the corner of the square, clinging to each other as they wept. I stood up and walked over them. As I got closer, I could hear the little ones calling for their mother. When they saw me coming, they scattered, running in between the stalls and the coves in the market. Seems like even dressed like a proper mot, I still walk like a Dog. 

I would have given chase, but there are many little ones in the Lower City, with mamas who leave them on the streets to take up with a man or to start anew. I cannot chase after them all. If I see them again during my Watch though, I will try to help them and find their mother. 

After that, I left the pigeons pecking in the square and instead went to visit Raaashell. She spun slowly, low to the ground. I pulled out a pouch of dirt from my Lord Gershom’s castle, and poured it into the heart of her cyclone. She was happy with my gift and spun higher until she reached my knees. I hope that someday she’ll be as big and strong as Hafush. 

I stepped into Raaashell and she whirred happily about me, still pleased over my gift and happier still that I was going to relieve her of her burdens. Being near the Nightmarket, Raaashell carries a heavy burden. I listened carefully, but most of it was useless. Some women were haggling, arguing about the price of bread. Some cracknob was going on about some Gentle Mother nonsense. I almost left. Then I heard two coves talking. 

“—I don’t have much coin left to spend on puttocks,” one cove, likely drunk, whined.   
“These gixies will be worth the money,” another promised him. “These slaves are trained well and come cheap. You’ll see on Friday.”

I paid careful attention to remember what they said about the slave auction. There hadn’t been any papers or taxes filed for a slave auction Friday night. I’d bet that some sarden slavers were trying to dodge the King’s tax on slaves again. 

My Dogs and I would just have to pay a visit to this auction. I thanked Raaashell for the information and stepped out, her form shrinking once again to become almost indistinguishable from dust kicked up by the children in the Nightmarket. 

Once I was finished visiting my Birdies, I went to a bathhouse to clean off the grime from the pigeons and Raaashell. Rosto and the others have planned a celebration to mark the opening of the new Rogue’s Court-the Dancing Dove. 

I don’t know what was going through Rosto’s nob when he decided to build the Dancing Dove across from my lodgings. I still have to decide if I ought to move away from the Rogue’s Court like a proper Dog or if I like living with my friends more. 

Once I was clean and neatly dressed, I headed off towards the Dancing Dove and the festivities. I hesitated at the door, wondering if it would be proper for a Dog, off duty or not, to be visiting the Rogue’s Court. Pounce mrrted at me, scolding me for hesitating. 

Are you going in or not? He asked, tail swishing through the air. 

“Of course I’m going,” I snapped. “I just—”

“Beka!” I turned to find Kora running towards me, Ersken ambling along behind her. “Wait till you see inside; Rosto has put so much work into it!” The mot actually shoved me through the door. One of these days I’m afraid I’m going to forget she has the Gift and accidentally use my Dog skills on her.

We were swamped with music once we entered the Court. The room was full of music and sound and laughter. Players in their fanciful clothes lounged around the room, amusing the folk around them. The tables in the large room were filled with coves and mots drinking, talking, eating, and laughing. 

Glancing above the crowd, I could see Rosto’s bleached hair. He and his trusted sat at the back of the room, all of their chairs on one side of the table with their backs to the wall, eyes watching everything. Rosto caught my eye and saluted my arrival with his glass.

“Isn’t it perfect?” Kora sighed, spinning around.  
I could only nod, still stunned by what Rosto had built.   
“”   
“Give the mot some time,” Rosto walked towards us, the crowd parting easily before him. “My court has left the Terrier speechless. Or is it my dashing good looks?” 

I scowled at him. 

“Oh, come off it, Beka.” Rosto laughed, wrapping his arm across my shoulders. I huffed and ducked under his arm. The looby must learn to keep his hands to himself, lest he lose them one of these days. 

As I was scolding Rosto, I noticed another cove, strangely familiar, approaching from the corner of my eye. Although I kept some of my eye on him, I paid him no mind. Only a fool would dare challenge the Rogue here on his own turf, surrounded by his most loyal and talented. I focused my attention instead on Rosto and trying to teach the stupid looby to leave a mot to herself. 

“Rosto, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” A rich voice asked from behind me. I spun around, arms reaching for my baton on instinct. I cursed when I remembered that I had left my baton in my room with the rest of my uniform before coming to The Dancing Dove. I reached for my knives in my arm guards, only for Rosto to grab my wrist to stop me. 

“Beka, this,” Rosto gestured to the stranger, “is my brother. Naren.” He nodded stiffly at the stranger, who, I realized, shared the same high cheekbones and sharp jaw. Even if he was kin, Rosto didn’t seem too keen to make friends with him. Aniki and another rusher stood casual like behind Rosto. Though they didn’t reach for their swords, they stood tense and alert, eyes watching Naren’s every move. 

They don’t trust him. I’m still unsure why Rosto seems so reluctant to greet his brother. He snuck me away while Kora introduced Naren to the others, whisking me into a fast paced dance. 

I would have stopped him, but I do love dancing and Rosto is a very good dancer. 

“Rosto,” I gasped in between dances. “Why don’t you like Naren?”

He sighed. “Beka, why don’t you just enjoy the music and the dancing like other mots tonight?”

When I remained silent, he gave in. “I need a drink for this.” I followed him off the dance floor and into a side room. Rosto poured a drink for himself, his back tense.

“Naren is six years older than me. My ma has six, six daughters, but only two sons. My father is a merchant by trade and insisted on having a male heir to continue the family shop.”

I snorted here. The image of Rosto as a shopkeeper left me in hysterics. I doubled over, laughing at the thought of Rosto, sidling up to shoppers in his graceful manner to threaten them into buying his goods. 

“I know,” Rosto grinned. “I don’t think I would be a very good market keeper myself. My father had initially planned for Naren to be the heir, but then I was born. I worked harder and my father decided to make me the heir.” His eyes glinted in the candle light. “Naren has never forgotten that, even if I never take over the family shop.”

I don’t know what I was thinking, but I can’t stand seeing Rosto all sharp edges and stiffness, like he’s waiting for me to attack him. I reached over to embrace him. He stiffened and I pulled back, worried I might have overstepped. Rosto smiled and led me back out to the dance floor. We spent the rest of the night dancing and I was glad to see him smile again. 

By the time I made it back to my rooms, the sun was already starting to streak the night skies. I still forgot to ask Rosto about the Scanrans in town, but I will ask tomorrow. I’m afraid I’m too tired to make much more sense,


End file.
